


This is no Time to Behave, Let's Both Get Carried Away

by blueabsinthe



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Hand Jobs, M/M, New York Rangers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-06-01
Updated: 2012-06-01
Packaged: 2017-11-06 14:29:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/419944
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/blueabsinthe/pseuds/blueabsinthe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Maybe Ryan was just really, really fucking drunk ...</p>
            </blockquote>





	This is no Time to Behave, Let's Both Get Carried Away

**Author's Note:**

> Title is lyrics from a song by We Are Scientists.

Ryan McDonagh had done some pretty stupid things in his lifetime. But, hey, that's what college was for, right? The weekends were a time to stay out late, down shot after shot, and sleep with as many coeds as possible.

Except, he was never one to push the limits every weekend. 

So, he was still trying to figure out how he ended up being dragged to a bar following their game six loss to the Devils. Better yet, how he ended up downing shot after shot of some kind of liquor he would never be able to pronounce sober. 

And, furthermore, how he ended up almost sitting in Derek's lap after, shit, was that their tables tenth round of shots? Maybe it was an exaggeration. There was no possible way it was ten rounds already. Or maybe he missed a few rounds, and this was actually his fourth.

Maybe Cally was not trying to get them to start singing karaoke. And, maybe Girardi was not trying to get Cally to step off the bar stool.

Maybe … maybe … maybe Derek was not leaning over to whisper something against his ear. Ryan blinked at Steps to try and bring his face back into focus.

Maybe, he was not just imagining Steps hand had not left its spot on his knee.

Maybe, he was really, really, fucking drunk.

"You look exhausted," Derek says, his breath alcohol tinged and hot against Ryan's ear. 

Ryan blinks slowly, taps a finger against Derek's nose. He cannot stop from staring at the way Steps grey-blue eyes darken almost immediately at the simple touch. 

"So do you, Steps," Ryan says in a slightly slurred voice. 

Derek blinks slowly, the fringe of his eyelashes hiding his pupils from Ryan's sight for a moment. "Is this the part where I lecture you on the pitfalls of drinking too much?"

Ryan laughs, his knees knock against Derek's. It is a reminder to Ryan that he is almost sitting in Derek's lap. He clears his throat and subtly shifts slightly away from him.

"I could say the same about you," he replies, holding up one finger when he sees Derek is about to protest. "Don't even try to deny it, Steps. Besides, I haven't had that much to drink."

The next words Derek says, he says with his lips grazing Ryan's ear. "You wanna get out of here?"

Ryan laughs at him. "Why, Derek Stepan, are you trying to seduce me?" He tilts his head to one side, and takes a sip from the beer bottle someone placed in front of him. 

Derek whacks his arm playfully. "You love it." 

Ryan smirks, chews thoughtfully on his bottom lip. His lips are slightly wet, and pink.

"Come on, we've had our fair share tonight." Derek tugs at Ryan's arm, places a steadying hand on Ryan's shoulder as he stumbles slightly. 

Ignoring their teammates protests, Derek leads Ryan towards the doors. After hailing a cab and climbing into the backseat with Ryan, Derek reclines his head back against the seat.

He shifts his head slightly as he feels Ryan's heated gaze on him. "What are you staring at?"

Ryan blinks. "Who says I'm staring?"

"I do." Derek reaches a hand out, places his palm against Ryan's overly warm cheek. "S'not like I mind though"

Ryan's throat feels dry. All proper forms of speech seem to have left him as he feels Derek's thumb stroke over his cheek, and over his jaw. Was the liquor really affecting him this much?

"Derek …" Ryan breathes, shifting his body closer to his teammate. 

"Hot," Derek says, pressing his palm against Ryan's cheek. 

"Why, Steps, I didn't think you cared," Ryan says, a teasing lilt to his tone. 

"Your temperature, McD. God, why are you trying to make this into something -"

"- sexual?"

Derek rolls his eyes, starts to slide his hand away from Ryan's cheek, but Ryan's fingers curl around his wrist, his thumb running over the pulse point. Derek's heart skips a beat at the motion. He is frozen as Ryan tugs lightly on his arm. 

"What are you - what are you doing?" Derek manages to get out.

"Shh, Steps."

Ryan brushes his thumb across Derek's cheek. His touch is feather-light. Derek thinks it is a weird contrast to the way Ryan plays when he's on the ice. He lets his eyes flutter close as he finally feels Ryan's lips touch his. 

Ryan's mouth is liquor-tinged, and it isn't so much a kiss as it is Ryan's lips nuzzling his, a back and forth skimming motion. It leaves Derek dizzy, and slightly euphoric. 

They had kissed once in college. And even then, Derek wasn't so sure it actually happened. But, now, in this dimly lit cab under the glare of New York City's lights, Derek's almost one-hundred percent sure this is actually happening. Ryan actually has a death grip on his wrist, and his lips are actually moving over his, catching Derek's bottom lip in both of his. 

Derek makes a slight mewling sound in his throat as Ryan finally pulls away. He blinks quickly as he brings Ryan's face back into focus. 

"Why'd you go and do that?" he chokes out.

Ryan runs a finger over Derek's lips. "You gonna complain?"

"Of course not, it's just -"

"- better than that time in college?" 

"You remember that?"

Ryan scoffs, his tone sounds slightly disappointed. "Of course I do." He sighs, and chews his bottom lip as he gets lost in thought.

"Really?" Derek finds it is getting harder and harder to think the longer he stares at Ryan's lips, wanting to kiss him again.

"Really," Ryan confirms. "Look, Steps, you can phrase the question any numerous ways, and my answer will still be, 'yes, I remember us kissing back during our college days'."

"Oh, shut up," Derek says, before he leans in again, and presses his lips to Ryan's. 

"Shutting up," Ryan manages to get out as his lips part beneath Derek's. Derek manages to slip his tongue past the soft, slick curve of Ryan's bottom lip, his hand coming up to frame Ryan's face.

He's breathless and trembling slightly as Ryan makes a deep, groan-sigh in his throat. It causes Derek to fist a hand in the front of Ryan's shirt, the taste of alcohol on his tongue, and _Ryan_ , everywhere. 

Ryan may or may not have sneaked his hand up Derek's leg, before coming to rest on the zipper of Derek's jeans.

"Jesus shit, Ryan," Derek gasps. 

Ryan shifts his hand slightly, the friction causes Derek to bite his bottom lip roughly, and claw at Ryan's shirt, before he brings their lips together again.

"Your stop," the cab driver says. 

Derek snaps back to reality so harshly, he practically jumps away from Ryan. 

They split the fare, and stumble their way up to their apartment. Derek barely manages to get the door closed and locked, before Ryan has his hands all over him. 

Derek doesn't want this moment to end. He grabs fistfuls of Ryan's hair as Ryan backs him up against the wall, kissing his temples, his hair.

"Steps," Ryan whispers. "Been wanting to do that for a long time."

Derek feels a hot blush creep across his cheeks, and ignores the very obvious hard-on pressing against the front of his jeans. "Why'd it take you this long?"

Ryan shrugs. "Wasn't sure if it was what you wanted."

"Still need convincing?" Derek's hands reach down and pull Ryan's shirt up and over his head.

"No," Ryan says. 

"Good." Derek gasps as Ryan's hand manages to get the zipper on his jeans down.

It has been years since Derek has come from the simple friction of a hand on his cock, but Ryan's doing something absolutely maddening with his wrist and hand, it has Derek seeing stars. 

Has him gripping Ryan's arm, his mouth pressed against Ryan's ear as he mutters over and over again that he wants him to make him come. Promises Ryan he will give him whatever he wants. It sounds like a long line of broken syllables, and jumble of words. 

He isn't sure how he manages to stay standing as Ryan strokes him through his orgasm. Only that when his vision managed to clear, Ryan was staring down at him, a small smirk gracing his lips.

"I should kiss you more often," he notes.

Derek whacks his arm, before he sinks to his knees in front of Ryan. "Quid pro quo," he says, as his hand tugs the zipper on Ryan's pants down.

Ryan grunts in agreement, and looks down just in time to see Derek smirk up at him, before he takes his cock in his mouth.


End file.
